Sweet Girl

Thanks to my daughter, I’ve discovered what makes the world go ‘round. Before her birthday party on Saturday, I was firmly set on the idea that advertising makes the world tick. Sure, it’s an off-shoot of the typical “money” answer, but after fifteen years in television, I was sure advertising ruled the world. That was until Saturday.

And no, I’m not going to get all gushy and say “love” or “family.” But those are definitely close to the top. To fully understand what I’m talking about, we have to go back to Saturday morning, a full three hours before her party.

As any parent of a child in the baby/toddler years knows, the cornerstone to having a happy, successful day is the nap. Everything else flows from that. Whether it’s a one-hour power nap or a three-hour siesta, a rested child is a happy child.

There’s nothing worse than a tired and grumpy one-to-four year old with half a day to go. Maybe not all of their synapses have formed, and they have trouble firing when fatigue sets in. Or, maybe, as Finley demonstrates from time to time, they become uncontrollably insane. Which is why the nap can save you from joining them in the loony bin.

So, our party is set to begin at one and at eleven Heather’s friend, pregnant-with-twins Gina, agreed to watch the kid while we got the party set up. Luckily for us, Finley went down right before Gina showed up and we were hoping for a two-hour snooze of sanity.

Sure enough, as folks started arrive for the soirée, the little birthday princess started waking up. It was perfect. She was happy and fun and for a one-year old, took in all the people and noise very well. Then her world was to be forever changed.

Then the nectar of the gods was laid before the tiny one. And verily, she dipped her hands into the well of wonder, and brought forth unto her mouth the elixir of Apollo himself. What I’m trying to say is that for the first time in her life, she dove head first into sugar.

Heather bought a small coconut cake for the girl and after a few minutes of daintily picking off the coconut shavings, she plowed into the flour and frosting concoction and made the mess we were all hoping she would make. And that was fine and fun.

Fast forward to an hour or so later, post-party at our place.

Our little princess turned into a raving lunatic. She flopped onto her pint-sized couch like a drunk at a party and giggled madly on the floor. Below is just a few of the “highlights” from her sugar-induced tirade.

Of course, we’ll be keeping a keen eye on the amount of sugar she gets moving forward, but for a first birthday it’s okay to have a little fun. But it does make me wonder how much sugar I’ve consumed in my lifetime and how much sugar is in the things we eat and drink.

Plenty of people have to have their coffee in the morning… add a bit of sugar to your caffeine and it’s the only way some people can make it through the day. And who wants sugar-free? I’d rather lick a piece of wood.

Which is why I now think sugar makes the world go ‘round. If it can propel my daughter into fifth gear her first time through, just think of how much it helps us ALL get through the day.

Not that love and family aren’t a close second… in fact I’m quite aware that a synonym for sugar is love. And after seeing all the great friends and relatives we have show up for Finley’s birthday, I can say that there was plenty of sugar to go around for that little girl.

Then there’s the fact that I call Finley my “sweet girl” from time to time. I certainly don’t want her to go sour. In fact, I may have to give her kisses every day to make sure she stays sweet. That’s the kind of sugar I like best.

365

There was a moment, one year ago, when I was scared. Flat out, spine-chilling, knee-trembling scared. I saw this tiny tuft of hair start to emerge and I buckled. It was nothing more than the top of her head but it was enough. I had been fine for the past ten hours or so as Heather went into back labor and when her water finally broke. That was nothing.

The cold reality of forty weeks of waiting – of childbirth classes and ultrasounds… of tiny feet kicking Heather’s belly and the first sign of contractions – came crashing into my brain as I watched that little girl make her way into the world. I was going to be a daddy. Me. What did I think I was doing?

Sure, I liked kids. I had been around babies plenty of times and was pretty good with them. But they weren’t MINE. I could give them back. What did I know about feeding and night wakings and colic? How am I supposed to raise a kid? What do I know about any of that?

All those thoughts and many, many more were bouncing around my brain but only for a split second. That fear I had disappeared faster than it had begun. Because I saw two things that put my mind at ease and made me realize that everything was going to be alright.

Before I really had a chance to know what was going on, there was a pair of little eyes searching around this bright, cold world for something to help make sense. And for a split second – but long enough to make a difference – those little eyes locked on me.

That may have been the single best moment of my life. And attached to those little eyes was this tiny little baby, gasping and kicking. I watched as her purple skin began to turn pink with every new breath she took… As her little lungs yelled for all they were worth… And I was amazed at how light she was as I held her for the first time.

Looking at her in my arms, I knew I could never, ever let go. I knew that I was there to protect her and that I would do whatever it took to keep her safe. With my daughter in my arms, I turned the fear around. And just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, I watched as Heather held Finley for the first time.

All those worried thoughts about raising our daughter flew away when I saw the two of them together. Because I knew I wasn’t alone. We were a team… A family… and everything was going to be just fine.

I didn’t know it at the time, but over the next several months I would become the dad I am from watching how much of an amazing mom Heather is. I’m just the apprentice in this reality show. We are blessed and lucky to have a healthy and happy, easygoing kid. But I believe the reason Finley is so good tempered is because of how good she’s got it in the Mom department. And if you told me a year ago, I would be waking up two, three times a night to settle a baby and go right back to bed, I would have laughed. These days, it’s just part of the drill.

And now it’s a year later. I can’t say some of those parenting fears haven’t snuck their way back into my brain, because they have. But every time I start to worry, something will happen to ease my mind. Mostly, it involves a Finley smile or one of her squealing laughs. Sometimes it’s the amazing things she discovers, like how to hold a cup or when she rolled over for the first time or the way she walks around the house like she owns it (because she does).

But sometimes it’s as simple as watching her sleep, dreaming of whatever infants dream… Listening to her breathe her little sleepy sighs... Watching her curl up around her bedtime bunny. How can something so precious be so tiny?

I am thankful for every day I get to hold my two girls. They are there every day I wake up and are there every night I go to sleep. I can only hope the next 365 are half as good as the first.

Maybe it’s because I’ve got Irish blood in me and maybe it’s because we’re only a week away from St. Patrick’s Day… But one thing is for certain. Every March I realize I am a very lucky man.

The Beginning of the End

We’re down to one week left before Finley’s first birthday and a couple of things happened last week to signal the beginning of the end. What I mean by that is that the past twelve months have been pretty laid back, as far as Poppahood goes. There have been the occasional sicknesses and owies one can come to expect when raising a newborn. There have been long nights and short tempers. There have been a few sad faces, but even more happy faces, which is nice. But last week Finley did two things that signal to this Poppa that things are about to be different.

Both of these turns of events are inevitable. They are the things you see other kids do and wonder when your kid will get there. But, both of these things are on opposite sides of the Poppa Approval Scale(PAS).

The PAS contains many, many items and behaviors and events that I expect my kids to experience and many of them I hope they don’t. And in between are the other things and people and experiences that may or may not appear, but are not surprises.

For instance, at the high-end - the good-end - of the PAS are things like good grades, good sportsmanship, graduations and charity work. From the middle of the PAS and up are things like excelling in team sports, doing chores, saving money and family events.

At the low-end - the bad-end of the PAS - are things like boys, smoking, boys, reckless driving, talking back and boys. Fill in the rest of the bottom half of the PAS with things like trashy clothes, bad grades, and Britney Spears.

Our first event of the week lands somewhere near the top of the PAS. As you may recall from last week’s post, Finley has started taking more and more steps on her way to becoming fully mobile. Well, she’s officially fully mobile, now (See below).

What amazes me is not just the fact that she can zoom around the house at her own speed, but that she figured out how to stand up from a sitting position. This time last week, I figured that would be the last piece in her being a mobile munchkin and that it would take her some time to get there, but she figured it out and she’s off and running… Well, walking hurriedly, anyway.

The downside to her being a toddler is that now she’s a toddler. One blink of an eye, one turned head and she’s gone. We have to be especially vigilant when Finley is upright. It maybe high on the PAS, but in a slightly sad way, it signals the end of the infant stage.

Our second event lands on the high-end of the cuteness scale, but is the beginning of a slow march to the bottom of the PAS. I saw it first-hand a week earlier, but when Heather was witness to it and described to me the event in full detail, I knew it wasn’t just a fluke.

The infant room at Finley’s daycare holds up to eight kids. Right now, the oldest kid and the only girl, is Finley. She is definitely the Queen of the infant room… Especially since she can get around better than the rest. But, it turns out there is one little dude that can keep up with her. In fact they are buddies. The week before, when I dropped her off and last week, when it was Heather’s turn, we both noticed something interesting. As soon as we placed our little girl on the floor, she was off and crawling toward the little boy and he, in turn, was crawling toward her. Replace the padded carpet and toys with a field of flowers and you get the idea.

They met half way and began pawing at each other, like a couple of puppies checking each other out. Then it happened. Finley, not the little boy, leaned over and kissed him! Okay, so it was one of those open-mouthed-on-the-cheek baby kisses, but I knew what she was doing. Then she took off over to one of the cribs and he followed right behind, just like boys do.

All I kept thinking was, “You’re not even one!” All the teachers in the room and Heather the next week were saying, “CUTE!” Okay, so it was kind of cute, but not something I want to start thinking about, right now! Let’s go back to working on walking. Maybe I should buy that ball and glove a little earlier than planned.

The reality is that it’s all just a cute little playmate thing and I’m glad she can make friends. But deep in the back of my daddy mind, visions of boys at the door start to creep up into my consciousness. “It’s way too early for you!” I yell, and send them back to the part of my brain where I keep Air Supply lyrics.

At the end of they day, Finley is back home, waddling around the house, playing with Momma and Poppa and the world is right again. And just as sure as I am that she will go from walking to running, I’m sure there will be a day when she will ask me if she can go on a date. But until then, I’ll work on being top guy in her life. I’ll wipe her mouth, her rear end and her tears. I’ll tickle her and toss her and take her to daycare. And when she goes over to that boy, I’ll just smile and agree that it’s cute and when none of the teachers are looking, point at the boy and mouth the words “I’m watching you.” His infant brain doesn’t have a clue what I’m saying, but it makes me feel better. It must be a Dad thing.

Choosing Favorites

Last Friday was an anniversary. On February 22, 2007, I started a little thing called “Baby Blog.” In that first blog, I started off by saying what I wanted to do. I talked about keeping friends and family up to date on the birth of Finley. I even posted a few ultrasound pictures and talked about Heather being at -2 station (Extra credit for those of you who remember what that is!). It all seems much longer than a year ago.

As of today, we are fifteen days away from Finley’s first birthday. What an amazing year this has been. It’s hard to fathom how small she was back then and how much she has grown physically and mentally since. She’s on the verge of free-range walking (see below). And she’s babbling more and more. It’s quite hard to imagine what the next twelve months will bring.

And as much as every little thing she does brings a smile to our faces – even her little forays into areas and objects we try to keep her away from – there’s one thing that’s beginning to happen, of which I’m not too fond.

I’m sure this probably happens to most dads out there and I’m sure it will swing the other way over time, but I’ve noticed lately that Finley has been favoring the Momma over the Poppa.

Now, I know it sounds like I’m whining and I probably am, but when she’d rather be held by Momma than me, it’s not a good feeling. I know it’s mostly because Momma spends a little more quality time and the whole girl bonding thing happens, especially when Heather is doing her hair or putting on her dresses. Not to mention the biological advantage of breast feeding (Not a lot I could do, there). The Poppa? He’s basically a jungle gym.

Sure, I’m a lot of fun and on average I say “no” to the baby a lot less, but at the end of the day, she wants to snuggle with The Momma. Heck, at the end of the day I want to snuggle with The Momma, too!

Don’t get me wrong. Every now and again, she’ll give me one of those baby open-mouth kisses on the cheek or come and lay her head on my lap. And when I pick her up at daycare, she lights up and has to get to me as fast as possible. But, when we’re both in the room, I don’t have a chance. Okay, so Heather would say it’s not so bad, but she’s not on the back end of a baby snub.

I think it probably comes down to one decision that was preceded by our little girl’s growing up. As I mentioned before and I know I will mention again and again, she’s becoming more and more independent. I used to give her a bottle every morning while Momma got ready. Now, she wants to hold it all on her own, which cuts back on our Daddy time.

The one thing I really have to keep in mind is that she has the mind of a one-year old. Her decision process is constantly bombarded with interruptions and newer, shinier things to draw her away from whatever it is she was deciding upon. I think at this point, she knows that food and comfort are in Momma’s arms. Being tossed in the air and funny voices are in PoppaLand.

Over time I know our little delegate will swing her vote back to the Grand Old Poppa. And I also know there will be days when she won’t want to have anything to do with me. But for now, I have to enjoy every snuggle and kiss – how ever small they are – because there will be the day that she won’t want to be around either of us. Until that happens, I don’t mind being the runner up. It’s not much fun, but I don’t mind. I happen to think The Momma is number one, also.

Daddy Daycare

When I sit down and think about it, I haven’t spent more than a few hours alone with Finley since I took my paternity leave when she was three months old. At that time, she slept most of the day and drank bottled momma’s milk. Oh, how times have changed.

Today was President’s Day. For those of us not in the banking or postal industry, it really doesn’t mean more than a few less cars in the commute. But for most schools, including our daycare, it means a day off. Of course, when your child can barely walk, you can’t just leave them at home while you head to work. No, Daddy took the day off from work to take care of the little Miss. It was more like Memorial Day, though, because it made me remember why we pay for daycare.

There was nothing too terribly bad that happened, I’m just a bit wiped. It makes me appreciate everything the daycare folks do for us and it reinforces my appreciation for everything Heather does.

Here are just a few changes from the last time I spent a full day with the munchkin, back in June:

• In June, I gave her bottles every few hours. Now, she gets a bottle when she wakes up and a “big person” breakfast a few hours later.
• In June, she would sometimes spill a bit while drinking her bottle and it was really nothing more than a quick wipe with a cloth. Now, it all depends on if she decides to throw or wear or eat the pieces of pancake and peaches on her high chair tray. 9 times out of 10 there is a damp washcloth and a DustBuster® at the end of the meal.
• In June, the diaper that was changed was either slightly soaked and/or had a small and mostly harmless poo poo in it. Now, the diaper has so much liquid it almost weighs as much as she does and the poo poo is not so small and not nearly as harmless.
• In June, playing consisted of laying her on her back and jiggling small toys in front of her. Now, I’m lying on my back while she hops on pop then rolls off and crawls to the next toy which may or may not (but more than likely) make lots of noise. Then she’s up and pushing one of her cars into one of the walls or banging on the coffee table with some blunt object.
• In June, our biggest concern was that she didn’t roll over when she slept. Now, we just want her to go to sleep in any position that will help her do that. Now, our biggest concern is keeping her away from the fireplace, heater and any other area that we constantly say “no” about but she constantly has to explore.
• In June, she was thinking about rolling, but not too far. Now, she’s thinking about walking and we have to close the bedroom doors and have a gate into the kitchen.
• In June, she could make a couple of squealing noises. Now, she’s yelling “da da” and “ma ma!” Every once in a while “ba ba” comes into the picture.

I guess over the past seven months or so, Finley hasn’t been the only one to change. It’s hard for Heather and I not to evolve as our little girl does. The morning ritual has a new wrinkle since those early days. For a little while I was waking up with the girls and feeding the little one while the big one got ready for work. Now, the little one can hold her own bottle and I’m really just there to supervise.

And that’s what’s happening. For good or for bad, every little step towards independence that she takes is a step away from needing us – the very meaning of independence.

Now, I know that she’ll rely on us for quite some time, but you can already tell how badly she wants to do things herself. I know that in the not-so-distant future, there will be things I will teach her. And I also know, she’ll eventually tell me she can do them herself. Thinking about that stings a bit, but in reality it’s a good thing. It’s a great thing.

As much as I always want to be there for her, knowing she can do all those things by herself will be the best gift she can give me.

Someday, Finley will be a strong, independent woman. But that someday can wait. Right now, I like Daddy Daycare and the look in her eye when she reaches out for me to help her out of her crib.

In June, I couldn’t wait to see her in six months. Now, I can’t wait to see her tomorrow and the next day and the day after that.

Dancing Queen

As Finley has gotten older, there are things she has discovered on her own or by watching us and others. Some of these things aren’t quite the things you want an 11-month old to figure out.

For instance, she has decided that some of her toys – especially the more solid ones – make a great hammer. The problem is that she doesn’t need nails… she’ll just pound away on the coffee table or, on occasion, Poppa.
Then there’s the ever-popular throwing food onto the ground. This is a relatively new trick but pretty annoying, nonetheless. She has decided that her high chair tray is just a ramp to launch her food. And, like Evel Knievel over the Snake River Canyon, it just falls helplessly to the floor.
But, there is one little discovery she has made that makes me smile and wonder how in the world she figured it out. Finley loves to dance.
We noticed that she understood music a few months ago. Whenever a toy or book launched into a song, she would start rocking back and forth or bob her head. It was like she figured out that she was supposed to move whenever she heard music. She may not know what the song is about or anything about music itself, but she knows to move. And that’s good enough.
Last weekend, things took a bit of a turn. Most of the time, whenever music would pop up, she would be sitting down and start bopping to the tune. Nowadays, she spends a little more time upright, holding on to the coffee table or whatever structure or person is close enough to pull up on. And as she is standing there, grasping the table, one of her toys launches into one of its little songs. Instead of going into her bopping motion, like I though she would do, she starts swaying side to side and picking up her feet in an almost marching fashion. You can see it here.
Again, I’m not sure how she figured this out. Maybe some kid at daycare has a choreographer for a parent. Or maybe that’s just the way music works. As adults we don’t just burst into random dance moves when a song comes on the radio(Although maybe we should, every once in a while), but we’ll tap our foot or pencil or do a head bob of our own. Maybe it is something engrained in our DNA that tells us to move to the music. I know I’m glad she’s figuring it out and I even wonder if I had a little to do with it.
You see, when Heather was about seven months pregnant I convinced her to let me bring in my iPod and put headphones over her belly. And for the next half hour or so, Fetal Finley got a dose of the second side of The Beatles’ Abbey Road.
Now, I had heard that babies in the womb can hear the outside world, so I figured this was a good intro into the possibilities of music out here. I didn’t think too much about it, after the fact. That is, until she was barely a month old.
She was having a bit of a cry spell and we were finding it difficult to soothe her. Then, in the back of my mind I remembered playing The Beatles for her. I turned on iTunes and found Abbey Road. Instantly she quieted and seemed to recognize the music coming through the speakers. She probably was just fascinated by the music in general, but I like to think she recognized John, Paul, George and Ringo.
And now she’s working on her moves. Of course, I’ll have to teach her a few steps. And of course, her mother will tell her to ignore me. It doesn’t matter, really. If she wants to take up ballet or Irish step dancing or even bust a few hip hop moves. As long as she has the passion she shows right now when music is brand new and all she wants to do is sway her body and stomp her feet.
So next time a good tune comes on the radio, and you start tapping your foot, take a look around and if no one is watching, let yourself go and move to the music. Then you’ll know what Finley is feeling.

Step Child

Our condo has changed. It turns out a small child is like a cyclone. They start out innocently enough – they’re small, not too destructive, can’t travel very far – but then they grow. A box of toys they could barely pull themselves up to see inside, becomes an arsenal of squeaky obstacles and battery-operated ankle-twisting mines.

Hurricane Finley made landfall Saturday afternoon around 11am. Her path of destruction can be followed from just east of the sectional moving westward across the living and dining room into the nursery. Barnyard animals were left strewn about several feet from Old McDonald’s Press and Play Barn. One survivor, known only as “Tickle Me Elmo” could only repeat to himself frantic cries of “AGAIN, AGAIN!” Most of the inhabitants of The Hundred Acre Wood were left unharmed, but physically shaken.

This is what happens when you combine a short attention span with mobility. By the time Finley hit her noon nap, she had looked at and/or tasted every toy she owns. Not satisfied with the things allotted her, she began to go after things that she’s not to supposed to mess with. Things like the fireplace and the DVD player and speakers. Things we say “no” to, that when translated to the baby vernacular come across as “Not while we’re looking.”

Now, normally you might think that her going after things a bit dangerous or breakable would be a bad thing – and it is – but acting on her curiosity is actually helping her get smarter and it’s teaching her to walk.

In her mind, the fact that we don’t want her to touch something means she has to touch it all the more. And the things that are way off limits are the ones we go to extra lengths to keep her out. Whether it’s the little gate that leads to the kitchen or the plastic cover on the DVD, she wants to know what the big deal is and her little brain is trying to figure out how to break in.

She’s learning to try and move things in her way. She’s studying the barriers in front of her, searching for a crack in the shield. And Heather and I both know if we let our guard down at all, she’ll slip right through. She’s like a Navy Seal Cub… Except she’s kind of noisy. If she gets through an opening in a door, for instance, she’ll squeal with glee, blowing her cover. Giver her time though, and she’ll figure that out, too.

But the thing she’s learning the most is balance. Many of these taboo items are out of her reach which makes her resort to pulling herself up to a standing position to try and reach. And as she reaches, she’s starting to rely less and less on objects and more and more on herself. When she’s not thinking about it, she can stand in one place for quite some time. This standing is leading to walking.

The speed crawl is still her transportation choice, but every now and then she’ll venture out with a step or two before plopping down on her diaper-padded bum. Despite the fact we will probably regret this in the long run, Heather and I have been playing with her and getting her to take more steps. In fact, just tonight she doubled her previous record of four and made eight steps before dropping to the floor in front of her toys. (You can watch it right here)

So now our little mess maker is about to go bipedal. She’s on the verge of becoming an upright-walking ape and discovering the world from the soaring height of two feet. And as much of a great accomplishment that is, something tells me that as a parent, I’ll be bent over a whole bunch trying to catch a small girl who’s running off with my shoes and giggling furiously.

Which means Hurricane Finley will begin to leave and even longer and bigger path of destruction. Which means we’ll have to teach her to pick things up. But as they say, it’s all one step at a time.